In that moment, I wasn’t the casualty. I was the catalyst.

How in the hell does Ghost know that?

I steady myself, forcing my expression to remain neutral, even though my heart is pounding in my chest. Ghost watches me in a way that makes me feel exposed. He tilts his head as if he’s challenging me to admit it. Waiting for me to say the words out loud.

But I won’t.

“This is none of your business, Ghost.”

“Everything about you is my business. Where you live. What you do. Who you fuck. All of it.”

“You don’t own me.”

He laughs. The sound is both sensual and frightening, making my skin prickle with fear and… something that I refuse to acknowledge.

“Actually, I do own you, Dr. Andrews. You’re mine. And no one else gets to hurt you. Only me.”

“You—”

“Say his name, and I’ll let it go.”

I snap my teeth together with a click. Ghost might be pushing me into uncomfortable territory, but he’s not asking me to admit that I manipulated Mason so he’d give in to his anger, allowing me to free mine.

When it comes to dealing with Ghost, I’m getting off easy.

“Mason.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Ghost smiles at me for the first time today, and I ignore the way my blood rushes through my body. “You’re not going to do anything, right?” I ask.

“What could I possibly do?” He jerks on his cuffs three times, and the sound of the chain links clicking together has me gritting my teeth. “I’m in here and he’s out there.”

I glare at Ghost. “Given our newest communication of the digital variety, I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

He nods. “Fair. I am quite resourceful. That’s something you’ll learn in due time.”

“Don’t hurt Mason.”

“Why not?” Ghost frowns. “Eye for an eye. Or cheek for a cheek, at least.”

I refrain from touching my face even though it flushes under Ghost’s perusal. This is the exact reason I didn’t want to visit Ghost. He doesn’t miss anything and I knew he’d force me to explain the bruise.

“Mason isn’t worth it,” I say.

“But you are. You’re worth everything, Geneva.”

His words coil around me like a serpent before slithering inside, sinking deep into places I didn’t even know existed. The intensity in his voice, the way he says it like a promise, like an undeniable truth—it sends a current through me, igniting something I’ve tried so hard to keep dormant. Despite my restraint, I can’t stop the pull, the dark magnetism that he wields so effortlessly.

I hate that he can make me feel this way.

I shift in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest as if that small gesture could shield me from the impact of his words. But it doesn’t. It only makes me more aware of the fact that I’m struggling to keep my distance.

To stop my attraction.

This is wrong on so many levels. He’s a convicted murderer, a master manipulator, and completely insane. I shouldn’t be sitting here with my skin buzzing and my heart pounding in my chest.

His possessive statement from earlier, paired with his level of devotion, should terrify me. Instead, I’m terrified by how much I like it. How much it pleases me.

“Promise me you won’t hurt Mason,” I say.

“Why? It’s not like you care about him.”

I grimace at the truthful statement. “That doesn’t mean I want revenge.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

“What are you—”

He cuts me off with a laugh. “You’re still here, aren’t you? Sitting across from me, wanting information from me about your parents’ murderers?” He reclines in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “Let’s talk about why you came. But first, I have some requirements.”

“Requirements?”

“One piece of information for one piece of freedom,” he says smoothly. “That’s how this will work.”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean by freedom?”

He waves a hand in dismissal. “Small things. Nothing too drastic but enough to make our conversations more comfortable. I can’t scratch my balls when they itch. You have no idea how annoying that is.”

“What are you suggesting?”

He tilts his head, studying me for a moment before he speaks. “Unchain me from the table. Let me move freely while we talk. Of course, I’ll stay in cuffs. There’s no need to worry about your safety.” He winks. “For now.”

The suggestion sends a rush of discomfort through me. Letting him move freely, even with the cuffs, is a risk. But I need answers. I need him to tell me what he knows about April 18th, about the night my parents were murdered. And if this is the only way to get it…

“Fine,” I say, my voice clipped.

He grins, clearly pleased with himself. “I knew you’d understand.”

I rise and make my way toward the door to speak with the guard stationed outside. As I give him the instruction to unchain Ghost from the table, the guard hesitates, casting a wary glance at the inmate before reluctantly complying. It takes a minute for him to walk to Ghost’s side of the glass, but then his chains are removed from the table, leaving only the cuffs on his wrists.

Ghost flexes his hands with a subtle smile playing on his lips, while I return to my seat, maintaining my calm exterior even though my pulse quickens with each second. The shift in power is palpable, but I won’t give up the opportunity to uncover the past.

I retrieve the tiny pencil and piece of paper I hid in my pocket. “Now, tell me. Who was there that night? Who killed my parents?”

Ghost watches me carefully before he speaks. “André Bisset.”

The name doesn’t immediately register, but I write it down, keeping my face neutral even though my thoughts are racing. Who the hell is André Bisset?

“Time for another bit of freedom,” Ghost says softly, his voice teasing.

“What do you want now?”

His gaze drifts toward the cameras in the corners of the room, the red lights blinking steadily. “Turn off the cameras. Let’s have a real conversation, without the prying eyes. Unless you’re into voyeurism? I don’t kink shame, Dr. Andrews.”

I grind my molars. Letting Ghost move around is one thing, but turning off the cameras? That’s giving him too much power.

But I know how this works. He won’t tell me anything else unless I give him what he wants.

I stare at him, weighing the risk, my mind spinning with possible repercussions. He’s still in handcuffs. He’s still restrained. A guard is right outside the door.

Except turning off the cameras means I lose a safety net. I’ll be alone with him in more ways than one.

“Fine,” I say, before I can overthink it. “But if you want to meet in a room without this glass wall between us, you can kiss this shit goodbye.”

Ghost’s smile widens, dark and predatory. “Are you scared to be alone with me, Dr. Andrews?”

Ignoring him, I stand and move to the door again, instructing the guard to turn off the cameras. He hesitates, clearly alarmed by the request, but I remind him that this is part of the process to gain Ghost’s trust and establish our relationship as doctor and patient. The guard finally complies.

The red lights blink out and dread sets in.

I return to my seat, locking eyes with Ghost once again. “Who else was involved?”

He places his hands behind his head, his stance casual, as if he’s at a coffee shop instead of a prison. “This is the new protocol between us. Every time you visit, I want to be in cuffs only without the cameras on.”

Once I get the information I’m searching for, I won’t be visiting him again, so there’s no risk in agreeing to this. “Fine. Give me another name.”

“Luis Dominguez.”

I jot it down, still lacking recognition. At this point, that’s irrelevant. I’ll hunt them down later. “Anyone else?”

Ghost clicks his tongue in admonishment. “Where’s my bit of freedom?”

I don’t hide my exasperation. “What else could you possibly want?”

“Besides you? Not much. For now, I’d like more of your time.”